Tears of Autumn
by Bronwyn O'Reilly
Summary: Because privacy is subjective, nature is metaphorical, and sometimes relationships cannot be defined by words alone. Kubinashi/Kejoro


**Tears of Autumn**

The breeze whipped through Kubinashi's hair as he sat in a tall tree, nursing a single bottle of sake. He didn't drink often, hardly ever, but today was an exception. It was the anniversary of Rihan Nura's death, and he was having his own private period of remembrance, away from the rest of the clan.

Except Kejoro.

It had always startled him how dear Kejoro was to him. She was something that was integral to his world, someone who he knew he would die without. Not only physically – because she did do the defending, after all – but emotionally. She was his rock, his pillar of stability in a world that was slowly shifting.

She lay with her head in his lap, her body stretching along the branch they were perched on. Her hair pooled around her head, the red string loose and inviting Kubinashi to make patterns from it. Her dark kimono was as pristine as ever, the rose coloured designs on it standing out against the black of the fabric. Both were wearing dark clothes, more in deference to Wakana than because they believed it appropriate. They had their own methods of mourning.

Kubinashi smiled softly, fingering her hair. He had always been a serious person, more prone to long bouts of thoughtful silence than avid chatter. Somehow, Kejoro's presence made the silence seem more whole, more complete without even having to speak a single word.

"I miss him too, you know," she said quietly after a long while, shifting in his lap to look up at him. "I miss Wakana's smile from his presence, that's what hits me hardest."

"She was the Second's treasure," Kubinashi replied, the words rolling off his tongue with the ease that comes of repetition. "I think his last years were happy, and that is what counts."

Kejoro smiled. "Yes."

Silence fell again, comfortable and even, and Kubinashi sighed.

A few leaves fell over them as the wind changed, sending tendrils of hair back into Kubinashi's face. He lowered his head behind another branch and brushed the strands of blond back behind his ear. The wind was cold, this time, bringing a chill to his bones and making Kejoro shiver slightly.

"This seems wrong," he remarked quietly. "That wind change…it doesn't seem right somehow."

"I know what you mean," she replied. "I don't agree with you, but it does feel odd. It's just the wind coming on from the other direction."

He reached over and took one of her hands in his, smiling as he felt her grip tighten in response. He'd never really looked at their relationship as anything more than very close, very old acquaintances from way back when, but gradually the already unstable dynamic was changing. It had started sometime after Rihan had met Wakana, when he first began to notice how much brighter Rihan seemed. Wakana's mere presence was enough to make Rihan smile, smile that beautiful smile that lit up his dark face and made him seem less brooding, less introspective. It was a rare thing when Wakana wasn't there.

Then after Rikuo-sama's birth the dynamic had shifted even further. Kubinashi would spend hours with little Rikuo, playing ayatori and showing him the different patterns. Sometimes Kejoro would sit with them, stroking Rikuo's brown hair and giving Kubinashi a strange smile, one that held more mysteries than he wanted to comprehend. He may have been the closest to Kejoro, and he may know her in and out, but sometimes she had hidden depths that he was frightened to explore, frightened of what he might find.

They had never really sat down and talked about their relationship, such as it was. They rarely talked together at all when others weren't present, because anything that needed to be said had already been said, long before either of them had even though it. They could read each other's body language better than they understood their own tongue, and it was only when one of them departed from the norm that they ever needed to talk.

They were Kubinashi and Kejoro. They didn't need any other labels from anyone else.

The afternoon sun wafted through the boughs of the tree, and Kubinashi's head shot up to catch the beams of sunlight. It was a bright afternoon despite the chilly breeze, which Kubinashi found strangely fitting. Bright but cold. An interesting contradiction which made him feel far more comfortable than it ought.

A stronger gust of wind caused a shower of leaves to fall, and Kejoro's light laughter rang out. "It's like rain made of leaves," she said, one hand reaching out to catch one of the falling 'raindrops'. "The tears of autumn."

"An interesting metaphor," Kubinashi replied absently, taking a small sip from the sake again. "As though nature itself is mourning."

"You are terribly depressing," she scolded, but there was no anger in her tone.

He gave her an amused quirk of the lips, and her mock scowl relented slightly. "I am not a happy person, Kino. Surely you have noticed that by now."

"Just because you are unhappy doesn't mean you can't be happy," she said, frowning after the words escaped her lips. "That didn't come out right."

"I know what you mean," he assured her. "Look at Wakana-sama."

"She is a strong woman."

"She is incredible. I honestly don't know how she does it."

Kejoro smiled a strange smile. It was part understanding and part pity, as though she knew something he didn't and felt sorry for his lack of knowledge. "She has to be strong for Rikuo-sama. She loves him dearly, so much that she could not bear breaking while he is there."

Kubinashi sighed. "You look at me as if I don't know that. You forget, I have tried to do that myself. I'm… I'm just sorry that I didn't succeed, and that you had to see it."

By the look on Kejoro's face, she knew what he was referring to. She didn't bring it up, but he could practically hear the words left unsaid. 'Shiragiku'. 'Gizoku'.

'Kino…'

He sighed and banished the thoughts from his mind. He didn't need to feel even more miserable today than he already was. He went to take another drink, but it was intercepted by Kejoro, who took it from his grasp, took a long drink, then let it fall to the ground among the leaves.

"For the record," she said, looking up at him, "I could not bear breaking while you were there, either."

Kubinashi knew what she was saying. She was walking the line, that fine line between said and unsaid, known and unknown. He knew what was implied, as did she, but it was hanging in the air like it was caught up in his string. Neither had said it; neither had any intention of saying it, because that would mean that they would have crossed a border which could not be taken back.

After all, some words simply do not say enough. Nothing said enough.

She reached up, and cupped his chin. He closed his eyes, and she said, "Smile for me, Kubinashi."

He could never deny her anything, which was his greatest fear. Someday, sooner rather than later, would come a time in which she asked of him something which he would no longer be able to ignore, to put aside so as not to complicate their lives even further.

He smiled, and he could feel her answering smile even without his sight. "I would sooner smile than weep."

She let out a soft sigh, then pulled his head down to kiss his forehead. "And I would rather have you honest than strong."

In that moment, he knew that there was no point denying it, no point trying to describe it in any other form. This was him, and Kejoro, Kubinashi and Kejoro. You could not have one without the other. Yet, in the companionable silence that reigned in their joint mourning and celebration, the word was not spoken.

After all, this was Kubinashi and Kejoro.

There was no need for words.

**A/N: These two are beautiful and there is not enough in the archive.**

**- Bronwyn**


End file.
